


Candlelight

by lilflowerpot



Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Gen, also I learned that Il wasn't actually crowned until yona was 5 go figure, angsty sunshine ouryuu deserves more love, anyway this was my excuse to write for zeno's birthday, spoilers for chapter 99+, you know what else? we don't have a name for yona's mother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 02:08:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4688477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilflowerpot/pseuds/lilflowerpot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It was a mistake, he told himself, a terrible trick of the mind, one which the cruel hands of reality would shatter in an instant, and yet… He had felt it; a fragile flame which danced at the edge of his vision, unseen yet unmistakable.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Candlelight

The news meant little when he first heard it, ringing across the bustling town to the sound of bells. A new child, a daughter, and one of royal blood at that. Zeno merely shrugged it off with a merry smile plastered to his lips as he wove his way between the townspeople, catching snippets of conversation as he went. It seemed that the king’s first granddaughter had caused quite a stir despite being born of the unfavourable second son. Though Il’s reputation was that of a coward, his wife was rumoured to be both beautiful and benevolent, traits which were already painting her newborn daughter in a flattering light. It was of small consequence to the blond. Kings and queens, princes and princesses, as far as he was concerned one emperor was very much the same as the next; each had their individual merits and downfalls of course, but none could fill the void of the one lost all those eons ago.

Settling himself at the edge of the square, Zeno let the various excited voices wash over him as they went about their everyday lives with a little extra vigour, gossiping as they did so. It was only when a band of merchants, who had no doubt travelled from Kuuto judging by the value of their wares, passed by him and launched into the topic themselves that the yellow dragon took interest.

“They say she has hair as red as anything.”

He shouldn’t have let it get to him. The Gods knew that he’d been around long enough to journey across the whole of Kouka without so much as a fleeting glimpse of the deep crimson which had been etched so meticulously into his heart. There had been several instances during the early years of his solitude where Zeno had dared to hope, grasping at even the faintest promise of meeting his king again. Hiryuu had been a god after all, and if anyone was to return to this world it would surely be him. Said hopes had always been in vain - tales of redheads leading only to rustic auburn or brunets tinged with copper - along with the same heavy disappointment which sat like a leaden weight in his gut. He had been forced to acknowledge that such a fragile thing as hope quite simply wasn’t worth the heartbreak.

 

Despite this, he soon found himself approaching the place he’d once called home with an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. The grand gateway of the capital loomed overhead, and with it a cold wave of nostalgia. It had changed so much since he was here last - new buildings, new faces, even new smells which wafted from rich foods and heady perfumes - and yet the same old cobbled streets paved his way up towards the castle, accompanied by the same old mindless chatter that often came hand in hand with the relative wealth experienced by the people here.

The castle itself stood proudly at the head of the city, illuminated by the sun’s golden light as it lay low on the horizon, marking the end of yet another day in Zeno’s long life. He wouldn’t be able to enter of course; looking as he did in mismatched clothing with dirt-smeared cheeks he was almost surprised the soldiers had allowed him this close, but perhaps if he could reach the foot of the stone steps which carved their way up through the earth he’d be near enough to-

_To what, exactly?_

His previous endeavours had led him to villages or small towns and as such sating his foolish delusions had never been much of a trial. This, however, was no such small a feat. The chances of getting close enough to see any of the court officials was slim, let alone the red-haired princess who would most likely be nursing at the heart of the castle in the company of her mother and numerous ladies-in-waiting. Still the blond trekked onward, drawn towards the castle steps by something he couldn’t, or perhaps daren’t, name. He finally drew to a halt some distance from the soldiers, who eyed him warily from their post at the foot of the imposing stairwell. Paying them no mind, Zeno gazed upward at the place he had once called home with something akin to anticipation. Focusing himself, he allowed his mind to settle before reaching out through the heavy fog which had fallen over this world after so many years, searching almost feverishly for a familiar presence. He tried to remember exactly what it felt like to stand by the first king’s side, to bask in the aura of not only a god-turned-mortal but a master, brother, friend, lover and so much more. A twinge of panic shot through him when it took a fraction too long to recall his king’s smile or the exact softness which graced those eyes when he spoke of the humans he so adored. Breath catching in his throat Zeno staggered backward, trying desperately to regulate his pulse.

Trembling fingers fumbled for the heavy weight resting over his heart, gripping the gold medallion with all his might and beginning a mental chant of those most important to him; he did so over and over again despite the sobs that choked him or the black spots which danced across his vision. This mantra continued until only the odd hiccup interrupted him, occasional names slipping from his lips in a half-formed tongue as he worked his way through the names like a prayer. It was only when rough hands attempted to pull him to his feet that his current position - seated on the ground with his own fingers clawing at his skull - became known to him. Waving the off the soldiers' concern with a smile, he assured them that “Zeno was just having a little trouble remembering something” before staggering into the relative safety of an alleyway and out of sight.

It was almost as if the ever-lively atmosphere of Kuuto had forgotten about this little gap between buildings, leaving it to the non-existent mercy of time while the rest of the city grew wealthier and more beautiful with each passing day. The thought forced a bitter chuckle from the yellow dragon’s throat.

“Zeno is being so stupid Kaya, but he’s starting to forget.” Blue eyes locked upon the sliver of sky which was just visible between the towering rooftops overhead. “Everyone has left Zeno behind, and he doesn’t know what to do…”

Exhaling shakily, his eyes slid shut and a bright flame burst before them. Almost dropping to his knees for the second time that day, Zeno’s head snapped forward as he stared wide eyed at the dirty stone wall in front of him. As the last light of day fell below the horizon, the little back alley was cast into darkness. It was a mistake, he told himself, a terrible trick of the mind, one which the cruel hands of reality would shatter in an instant, and yet… He had felt it; a fragile flame which danced at the edge of his vision, unseen yet unmistakable. One heartbeat, then another, and Zeno allowed his eyes to close once more. The fire flickered back to life, not so much a light but more a familiar warmth which soothed the yellow dragon’s mind with a soft embrace.

He couldn’t help but sob with delight.

 

Some weeks had passed since Zeno’s return to the capital. As of yet he had no plan, in all honesty a large part of him had never dared believe that such a miraculous turn of events would occur, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave Kuuto now. After thinking it over rationally, he was aware that though Hiryuu’s soul had unmistakably been born again into this world as one of the humans he had so dearly loved, he - or rather she - was still a baby. The current king’s granddaughter would be unable to walk, let alone converse, so really there was little point in risking himself with an attempt to find the child who would likely have no memories of her former life - or even if she did would be unable to communicate them. All the same, he still desired to see her, even if only for a moment.

Had he possessed the blue dragon’s eyes, Zeno would surely have been able to sate his desperation from the outskirts of the castle. As it was, the dragon warrior skulked in and out of the shadows cast by dusk as, against his better judgement, he made his way towards the little light which guided him. Heart thrumming in his chest, he stole into the castle and through the familiar layout of sprawling hallways and splendid rooms until he reached the princess’ chamber. Trembling hands paused to rest on the door which his blood had guided him to, pulse thudding at an almost deafening rate with the mere thought of who lay beyond. At the sound of guards rounding the corner, the blond tossed aside his hesitation and slipped into the room.

Zeno froze. The sight that met him was one he should have accounted for, but unexpected all the same. Seated by the window, her child cradled in her arms, was a young woman. Moonlight spilled over her form, illuminating ebony hair and refined features; most notably, however, was the contrast between the light robes she wore and the unruly crimson tresses of her daughter. He had yet to be noticed, the second son’s wife too busy singing softly to the little bundle in her arms to detect an intruder, but it was only a matter of time. He should have run, fled right then and there, leaving the palace’s inhabitants none the wiser. Instead, the yellow dragon wet his lips and tried to find the right words - ones which wouldn’t send the entire royal guard into a frenzy. While he was confident he could escape if need be, he wasn’t desirous of marking this long awaited reunion with panic and bloodshed.

“He told me you’d come.” Giving a start at the sudden breech of silence, Zeno found the dark eyes of his master’s mother were upon him, guarded but not unwelcoming. “Before I was even with child, he said that I would be visited by sunlight beneath the cover of night - that I would meet a man who was both young and old, who meant neither me nor my little one harm.”

Zeno bowed gently, slightly out of practise with such formalities, before finally finding his voice. “You must forgive Zeno for intruding,” he paused, unsure of what to say, “it’s true Zeno means you no ill, but Zeno does not see how milady can be sure her friend was talking about Zeno. Such words are rather… obscure in their meaning.”

A soft smile made its way onto her lips, making it apparent why so many sang praise to the noblewoman’s beauty.

“Be that as it may, I trust in the lord priest’s visions. He may not have possessed Yu-hon’s favour but he certainly held mine.” Rising from her seat at the window she approached him with all the grace befitting her title. “Besides, I highly doubt that just anyone would have been able to reach me here so easily.”

She came to a halt a few paces from where Zeno stood, causing him to choke on nothing as his old eyes were finally able to rest upon the child’s sleeping face. She was small, so impossibly so that it was hard to believe such a delicate little frame could ever harbour the soul of a dragon. As if sensing the intensity of his gaze, the princess’ rounded face screwed up and she let out a short huff of air before blinking her eyes open with an almost comical look of confusion. A pale amethyst locked straight onto the stranger who stood before her mother, and it was only when it became difficult to focus on pudgy fingertips as they reached out towards him that Zeno realised he was crying.

“I think she likes you.”

Rubbing his eyes with a breathy, almost disbelieving chuckle, he tore his awestruck gaze from the gurgling redhead to meet the bemused expression of her mother.

“Honestly, you’re worse than Il, all misty eyed.” She dabbed at his face with all the tenderness a mother should possess, and Zeno was moved by such a profound wave of affection for the woman that he hardly knew what to do with himself. Hiryuu’s reincarnation was in good hands, he decided.

Without warning, the little bundle was pressed quietly into his chest and in an almost automatic moment of panic Zeno’s arms came up to cradle the squirming baby against himself, all before realising what had just happened and looking up at the woman in shock. She didn’t meet his gaze, perhaps just as fixated on her child as he was. At a light tug on his hair the yellow dragon returned his eyes to the little princess, finding her grinning up at him proudly with a fistful of blond. She gargled without her toothless smile fading, tugging at his golden mane as if trying to pull him closer. With a low laugh, Zeno complied, all too easily moved by her infantile whims. A part of him wondered if in some small capacity she recognised him as he did her, his blood burning hot beneath his skin though he paid it no mind.

A delighted squeal pulled him from his reverie as those plump hands made to seize the medallion hanging from his neck, causing it be knocked from the child’s grasp in what was apparently the most exciting manner. Bringing the writhing baby within reach of her quarry, Zeno indulged her, allowing chubby fingers to close around the cool metal disk, or as much of it as her size would allow. This pleased the princess so much that uncontrollable giggles bubbled from her lips, causing a pleasant warmth to blossom within the dragon’s chest. He pressed one finger lightly to her pink cheek, watching how the skin dimpled slightly due to the pressure and further still when her smile widened at his touch. Compared to the burning inferno he remembered on the battlefield, she was nothing: barely enough to light the darkened room they stood in, let alone the whole of Kouka. Yet she was soft and warm, the first real sense of comfort Zeno had found since Kaya.

“You know it’s funny,” once again the noblewoman wore a perplexed face “she’s my own flesh and blood, yet somehow I feel that you know her better than I.”

“How could that be true milady? Zeno doesn’t even know her name.”

Though intended as a means to prevent further questioning, the truth rang clear in his words after he’d said them. Once he’d heard that the newborn had red hair he hadn’t bothered to stick around for further details, and after confirming that she was the one he’d been waiting for all this time Zeno had never really considered her existence beyond that of his beloved king returned to this world, something which - now he thought about it - was rather cruel.

“Yona.”

The medallion was released as the child’s attention returned to her mother, almost as if she recognised her own name. With a quiet laugh mother and daughter were reunited, though Zeno was semi-reluctant to relinquish his hold on the princess along with the warmth which had settled within him.

“It suits her.”

Blue eyes lingered on the little girl as she looked back towards him with wide-eyed curiosity, all innocent sweetness. Knowingly or otherwise, her parents may have just named their daughter for her destiny; if she was anything like the person she’d been in her past life, then a bringer of hope and peace was certainly fitting.

“Zeno will leave her to you.” The dark haired woman looked up at him with an expression that plainly stated such a thing had never been in question, receiving nothing but a noncommittal hum in response as the blond shook his head to dismiss the matter. “If the young miss ever needs Zeno, he will never be far away, but unless such a time comes it would be better that no one knows Zeno was here.”

Without waiting for a reply he strode to the window, only faltering when the child gurgled again, struggling in the arms of her mother and reaching out as if to prevent the loss of her new friend. Looking back over his shoulder the yellow dragon smiled once more, whispering a soft farewell before being swallowed up by the night.

**Author's Note:**

> For those wondering, Yona means "dove" hence Zeno's thoughts and analysis of her name.


End file.
